


we'll find a safe harbor all our own

by warsfeil



Category: IDOLiSH7 (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-13 11:55:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14111799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/warsfeil/pseuds/warsfeil
Summary: The first time, they’re drunk. Mitsuki’s kisses taste like Yamato’s beer, and Mitsuki is hotter than fire in Yamato’s arms.Featuring Musashi the judgemental roomba, Yamato's own self-guilt, and the story of an accidental relationship.





	we'll find a safe harbor all our own

The first time, they’re drunk. Mitsuki’s kisses taste like Yamato’s beer, and Mitsuki is hotter than fire in Yamato’s arms. They don’t even get half their clothes off before they’re grabbing at each other, clumsy, fumbled touches like they’re both just teenagers again. But alcohol is a sedative, and they don’t quite manage to do anything properly fulfilling before they pass out. They’re woken up by the low, plaintive tone of the small cleaning robot on the floor, caught helpless in Mitsuki’s discarded shirt.

Yamato cleans up the clothing and the empty cans from the previous night while Mitsuki pulls his clothing on and puts his head in his hands to ward off the hangover. It’s only a robot, but Yamato still feels like Musashi might be judging them.

“Yeah, I know,” Yamato tells the robot, out loud, and then promptly falls back into the bed until the headache wears off.

-

The time after that -- and the time after that, and the time after that, and several more times in between -- the beer is just a facade. Mitsuki barely drinks half of his before he’s pressed against Yamato, fingertips cold from where they’d been clutching at metal. Yamato groans at the feeling of icy fingers splaying across his stomach, and Mitsuki takes it as encouragement, and everything slowly gets away from them in all the best ways.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” Mitsuki says, afterwards, pulling his shirt back onto sweat-sticky skin and trying to brush his hair back into some semblance of looking like anything other than “well-fucked”. “You want one, too?”

“I’ll take one later,” Yamato says. “If we both leave looking like this, everyone’s going to figure out what’s going on.” 

Mitsuki frowns at that, but Yamato can’t quite read what’s hidden in the expression. It’s probably the desire to not get caught, which Yamato gets. It isn’t like Yamato’s anything to write home about. He’s not exactly the kind of guy anyone should be dating, much less someone as talented as Mitsuki. 

“Yeah,” Mitsuki says, eventually, and offers Yamato a smile. Mitsuki’s hair doesn’t actually look all that presentable, but maybe he won’t run into anyone else on the way to the bath.

Yamato lays there pressing on one of marks Mitsuki managed to leave with his nails and forgets to shower until morning.

-

It continues on for awhile like that, until eventually Yamato offers Mitsuki a beer and Mitsuki takes the can, sets it down on the ground, and kisses him before Yamato can even get his own open. It was the last pretense they had, and with it gone, where’s their plausible deniability? Without that between them, they’re going to have to talk about it or something.

They don’t talk about it. They don’t talk about anything, because by now, they know each other’s bodies well enough to fill in the conversational gaps with touching, instead. 

“You wanna shower?” Yamato asks in the aftermath, groping for wherever his glasses got flung. 

“Yeah,” Mitsuki replies, like Yamato knew he would, because there hasn’t been a single night when Mitsuki didn’t leave to shower away the evidence of Yamato. “You coming this time?”

“The kids are still awake,” Yamato says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

Mitsuki gives him a level gaze that’s only briefly obscured when he pulls his shirt back on. “They’re watching a movie,” Mitsuki says. “You should shower before you fall asleep.”

There’s a lot of things Yamato _should_ do, and a proper retort is on the edge of his tongue, but --

“Come on,” Mitsuki says, and holds out his hand. 

Yamato takes it, hauls himself up to his feet, and wonders where his life got so off track. Years ago, probably. This is all just another mistake to add to his list. He can probably reach outer space if he stacked them all up. 

Yamato reaches out to straighten Mitsuki’s hair -- if they’re going to be flirting with danger like two kids hiding from their parents, they should at least _try_ a little harder -- but he knows it’s a lost cause before he gets more than two half-hearted tugs in.

Mitsuki drops his hand once they’re outside the door, and they make it to the bathroom without being seen or interrupted. 

Yamato feels like he hit the alcohol even though he’s as sober as the day he was born; it’s like a dream, the way Mitsuki washes his back and his hair, demands that Yamato do the same to him. Their knees knock against each other's in the bath tub, and Yamato wonders if this is how it’s supposed to feel, when you start to fall in love with someone.

It’s a little terrifying. Actually, it’s a lot terrifying, and Yamato shoves the feeling down rather than think about it. He splashes Mitsuki, instead, and sets off a hushed water fight that ends in a soap-flavored makeout that’s still one of the better memories Yamato has.

-

The pattern doesn’t break again until the first time Mitsuki follows him _back_ to his room. Yamato doesn’t exactly question it -- he doesn’t want to bring attention to the aberration, because that just makes it more real -- but Mitsuki is trailing behind him, clean and washed, and Yamato direly hopes that they aren’t angling for a round two when they have work in the morning.

“I’m taking one of your shirts,” Mitsuki says, casually digging through Yamato’s closet until he finds an old t-shirt that’s apparently suitable sleep attire. 

Yamato can feel his brain trying to come up with a response, but it isn’t quite working. _Knees_ , he thinks, articulately, and then gives up on communication for the moment. 

Mitsuki gets in Yamato’s bed, and Yamato follows, mind whirling with all the force of a localized hurricane to continue its litany of linked but unhelpful words. _Thighs. Bed. Sleep. Together._

“Roll over,” Mitsuki says, and he’s facing Yamato and their faces are so close that Yamato can feel Mitsuki’s breath on his skin. 

Yamato rolls over, and he’s startled when Mitsuki wraps an arm securely around him.

“Hey,” Yamato says, “shouldn’t I be the big spoon?”

“You’d just make an excuse not to do it,” Mitsuki mumbles, sleepily, and it’s the truth, but Yamato wishes he wouldn’t say it like that. 

Yamato expects to feel trapped, with Mitsuki’s arm wrapped around him and nowhere to run. It takes him an hour to figure out that the unfamiliar feeling he has instead is the feeling of being safe.

-

“We’re out of eggs,” Iori says, buttoning up his school blazer in a fashion that more closely resembles a high-ranking CEO than a high school student. “So there isn’t much left for breakfast.”

Yamato makes a noise that’s a vague affirmative and heads straight for the coffee, instead. He isn’t a person this early in the morning, but he needs to find his humanity _before_ it’s time to head off to a mid-morning shoot.

“Nii-san,” Iori says, and Yamato stops dead with the coffee cup pressed to his lips. He looks over without moving his head, taking in the site of Mitsuki in his pyjama bottoms and what is undeniably Yamato’s shirt. 

“There’s toast on the counter,” Iori says, to Mitsuki, as though nothing is amiss. Yamato’s lips are burning where the coffee is touching them, but he feels frozen to the spot.

“Thanks,” Mitsuki says, and waves Iori off. 

Yamato drains half the cup of coffee in a faintly panicked movement, and then sets it down on the counter. Mitsuki leans around him, dropping a hand on Yamato’s hip to steady himself as he snags a piece of toast.

Yamato opens his mouth.

“I know, I know!” Tamaki says, running into the kitchen, grabbing a piece of toast from around Yamato and Mitsuki both, and running to the front door. Sougo follows at a more sedate pace, trailing behind him and looking for all the world like a fearsome housewife chasing her children out on time. “I won be way!” 

“You won’t be late if you leave right now,” Sougo says, watching Tamaki long enough to make certain that he’s actually on the way out before he turns his gaze to Yamato and Mitsuki. “Good morning.”

“Good morning!” Mitsuki chirps back, and Yamato is convinced that this is all some bizarre dream.

“I’m gonna go get ready,” Yamato says, going back to his room and forgetting his coffee entirely. That’s fine. It clearly wasn’t helping, because he’s obviously still asleep.

-

It takes awhile for Yamato to _realize_. Iori gives him a message for Mitsuki, and Yamato wonders why Iori didn’t just give it to Mitsuki himself. Tsumugi gives a speech about not dating anyone, for the sake of their fans, and Tamaki asks if they’re allowed to date each other, which is a question that promptly goes unanswered when Tsumugi blushes too hard to respond. Nagi and Riku disappear to watch Magical Cocona for the third time in the same week and come out of Nagi’s room so much later Yamato thinks they could have watched the entire series in that span of time.

“Hey,” Yamato says, one night, when Mitsuki is pulling one of Yamato’s shirts on and getting ready for bed. “Do you want to grab lunch together, tomorrow?”

Mitsuki pauses, glancing at Yamato. Yamato looks away, pushing Musashi back onto his charging dock and wrestling a sock away from the robot.

“I mean, you’re free, right?”

“Yeah,” Mitsuki says, slowly, and then repeats it, offering Yamato a grin that makes Yamato feel like he might be having a heart attack. “Yeah!” 

Mitsuki presses in even closer that night, and Yamato falls asleep to the steady rhythm of Mitsuki’s breath on the back of his neck.

-

The last time, they’re not drunk at all. They spend half an hour kissing before they even bother to take their clothes off; they go slower than Yamato thinks they ever have, before, slower than Yamato knew Mitsuki was capable of going when he’s normally the one leading so much. Yamato might be the leader of Idolish7, but Mitsuki is the source of energy, and Yamato doesn’t know what he’d do without this warmth now that he’s found it.

When Mitsuki goes to wrap his arms around Yamato, Yamato rolls over, faces Mitsuki and wraps his arms around Mitsuki, too. 

“I love you,” Yamato blurts, with absolutely no subtlety or sense of timing, but Mitsuki only threads his fingers through Yamato’s, joining their hands together.

“I know, dummy,” Mitsuki says, quietly, and Yamato wants to ask _how_ and _when_ but he doesn’t manage to. “Did you think I didn’t love you, too?”

Yamato kisses Mitsuki again, with everything he can manage.

-

In the morning, it’s the first time -- in the hazy early dawn, Yamato’s fingers start exploring Mitsuki like it’s brand new, like he’s never touched him before and doesn’t know what he’s doing. He memorizes every noise that Mitsuki makes, every movement and every sigh, and chronicles them all in his mind as the start of something deliberate.

He drinks coffee out of Mitsuki’s mug, and when Riku laughs that it’s an indirect kiss, Yamato leans over to give Mitsuki a direct kiss, too. 

“Oh!” Nagi says. “Do you want an indirect kiss, too?”

There’s an argument happening at the kitchen table after that, Riku turning red and Iori chastising all of them while Tamaki looks on, impassive in the face of having pudding, but Yamato doesn’t hear a word of it when Mitsuki smiles at him.

**Author's Note:**

> me: i'm going to write a fic where mitsuki jetpacks yamato!  
> me, two hours later, with a 2,000 word fic: this isN'T WHAT I MEANT TO WRITE AT ALL.
> 
> i super didn't edit this and i'm sorry. this is my first fic for i7, so it might be a little rough around the edges!


End file.
